


Watson’s List

by mydogwatson



Series: One Fixed Point: 2020 Advent Stories [12]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Victorian Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 13:34:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28654305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mydogwatson/pseuds/mydogwatson
Summary: Watson decides to celebrate Christmas.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Series: One Fixed Point: 2020 Advent Stories [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2035588
Comments: 15
Kudos: 82





	Watson’s List

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Список Уотсона](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28980918) by [Little_Unicorn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_Unicorn/pseuds/Little_Unicorn)



> Okay, so here we are at 12 December...indulge me, please. Also, I confess that this piece is rife with anachronisms. But I had the idea and was not deterred by learning that scientific knowledge was a bit behind my imagination. So, again, i plead for your indulgence. So let’s carry the Xmas spirit forward. Rather needed now, right?
> 
> Prompt: Making a list
> 
> Hope you enjoy. Let me know!

There is nothing more wondrous  
than a list...  
-Eco, U.

A man who has served in Her Majesty’s forces acquires a certain knack for paying attention to detail. As does a man who has learnt the names of all the bones and organs within the human body. That skill often comes to serve me well in my work with Holmes, although, of course, I could never match his ability to observe. 

I will acknowledge that I have never before used my talent for detail in service to Christmas. But, perhaps still a touch giddy from how our life in these rooms had changed not so long ago, I find myself in the mood to make something of the season.

When I announced my intention to mark the holidays this year, Holmes at first replied not with words, but with a most scathing expression. “Christmas, Watson?” he finally said. “Whatever are you thinking?’

“Nothing tremendous,” I rushed to assure him. “I just thought that I might follow the lead of Her Majesty and observe the season. Perhaps a few of Mr Cole’s cards. Some small gifts for those who have helped or been kind to us this past year.”

Holmes was not best pleased. “I do hope that you do not intend to erect a tree in our parlour or deck the mantle with boughs of holly. That would really be too much.”

I could not help but chuckle at his aggrieved expression. “I will not press you that much, my dear.”

His massive sigh indicated that I had triumphed, which was no great surprise. Even before the recent change in our relationship [although I sometimes thought that it was not really so much of a change, because the passion had always simmered just below the surface, unexpressed] he denied me very little. At least when it really mattered. He gave a careless wave of one slender hand. “As you wish.” He returned to whatever scientific paper he had been reading all evening.

On the way to my desk, I gave the top of his head a quick kiss. The fact that I could now do that so freely, rather than hide the desire was certainly cause for some joy.

So. To begin, I decided to make a list of those whom should receive a card or a gift. I took out a sheet of paper and my trusty old pen and began. The first name was easy. _Mrs Hudson_. Our long-suffering landlady. What might be an appropriate gift for her?

Holmes looked up from his reading. “Some interesting work being done in the area of human decomposition,” he said. 

Perhaps some fine linen handkerchiefs? With pretty embroidery?

“I am sure you are familiar with _Washing Away of Wrongs _. Written in the 13th century by a Chinese judge named Song Ci.”__

__Upon further thought, perhaps some handkerchiefs _and_ a bottle of scent, I decided, remembering some of what Mrs Hudson had endured over the past year. Finally I realised that Holmes was awaiting a reply. “Ah, well, perhaps not as familiar as one ought to be,” I murmured. _ _

__Even without glancing at him, I know that Holmes was giving me the look that meant he was rather disappointed in my failings. It no longer bothered me._ _

__“Never mind,” he said, yet again showing me a tolerance that would not be granted to anyone else._ _

__A card must certainly go to good old Stamford. And not before time, since without his intervention, I would not be sitting here now, in the company of Sherlock Holmes. Possibly a box of his favourite chocolates limes as well, although he would no doubt wonder why he was being so gifted. I could simply thank him, albeit belatedly, for the introduction to Holmes without even hinting at where that action had lead._ _

__“The body starts to decompose immediately after death,” Holmes said then. “Have you ever noticed the sheen on the flesh? That is from the small blisters that form.”_ _

__I had no close family, but there was one aged aunt living in Yorkshire. We had not seen one another for many years, but she never failed to send me a birthday greeting, with a pound note tucked inside. I always sent back a brief letter of thanks and that was the end of it. But perhaps Aunt Mabel would appreciate a card. Then, mentally tallying the number of pound notes she had sent me over the years, I decided on a few fine handkerchiefs for her as well. Clearly I possess little creativity when it comes to gifting others. Still, a pretty embroidered handkerchief was always useful to a lady, even one in advanced years._ _

__“The shame is, so little research has been done in the area of decomposition,” Holmes complained. “I shall have to give it much more thought and add the subject to my compendium.”_ _

__Oh, yes, that infamous volume he intended to write when in his dotage and retired._ _

__“Of course, second come bloat and putrefaction. And the smell.”_ _

__I am quite familiar with the smell of death, naturally. A physician, a soldier, a companion to a consulting detective could hardly avoid such knowledge. But I was thinking of Christmas at the moment, not the stench of death._ _

__Still, that line of thought lead me to recall Murray, the aide de camp who had pulled me to safety after I’d been shot in Afghanistan. We had met up only once since he had returned to England himself, having a drink or two at my club. He was married now, living in Somerset, doing something I could not recall at the moment. I did recall that he had a wife and twin sons. Aha! That was convenient. I could send a card to Murray and his wife, along with a toy for the boys._ _

__My list was shaping up nicely._ _

__“I think the next stage is the most active decay,” Sherlock mused. “As the organs and muscles liquify.”_ _

__I carefully wrote down another name and did not ask Holmes for any suggestion, because I could imagine the reply. Still, family was family. Beside Mycroft’s name I jotted down the idea of a confectionary basket from Fortnum and Mason’s. When the deed was done, I knew Holmes would laugh and make a most rude comment about his brother’s fondness for cakes and biscuits._ _

__“And, finally,” Holmes said with satisfaction, “the skeletonisation. The organic matter has all dissolved and bone remains.”_ _

__Lestrade was next and it was simple. A packet of his preferred tobacco, Players, would suit nicely._ _

__Finally, at the bottom of the page, I wrote _Mr and Mrs Holmes._ I quite like Holmes’ parents, although I had no idea what they thought of my close attachment to their son. They always treated me with kindness was all I knew._ _

__I knew Mr Holmes favoured the Cuban Por Larrañaga cigars, which my own tobacconist carried. As for Mrs Holmes...no, I refused to contemplate yet more handkerchiefs. Ah! I knew that she maintained a large correspondence with other ladies who shared her interest in mathematical subjects, as odd as that was. So a nice box of monogrammed stationery._ _

__I sat back with a sigh of satisfaction._ _

__“It would be highly interesting to construct a detailed timeline of the process,” Holmes postulated._ _

__“No corpses in our rooms,” I said almost absently, carefully folding my list. Tomorrow I would venture out for the shopping._ _

__My friend sighed in a most put-upon way._ _

__Of course, there was one name not on my list. That was because I already knew what my gift to Holmes would be, but I was trying not to think on it too much, fearful that my courage might flag._ _

__I stayed at the desk, thinking to call down for some tea, watching as Holmes rambled on about the ruination of the human body after death, and it only made me love that absurd and brilliant creature all the more._ _

__**_ _


End file.
